Karma
by sparklybutterfly42
Summary: Alfred F. Jones is a simple New York boy, cast into high English society when he moves in with the Kirklands. On top of that, he must attend Circle Academy, the most prestigious international school in the world. While striving to fit in with this new family and make friends, Alfred must keep his past from returning to haunt him, lest he lose all chance he has for happiness.
1. The Death Sentence

**Hey guys! This is my first multi-chapter fic, and I've been working on it for a while, so I really hope you like it!**

**Oh, and I guess I should do one of these: I do not own Hetalia or anything else referenced in here. Though I do own a giant stuffed purple dango with which I sleep every night. **

**It is rated T fo language, violence, and possible future drug mentions, though nothing explicit.**

**So, without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter!**

He glared down at the man who knelt before him. This man had taken everything from him: home, family, livelihood, honor. And yet he had the gall to look terrified? To plead for his life as he looked down the barrel of the shaking gun in his executioner's hand? This was justice. He wasn't a hero. No, he was an avenger. He tightened his finger on the trigger, ready to release the bullet that would simultaneously free and bind his soul.

"Alfred! Stop! Don't shoot!"

* * *

"Circle Academy: Where Great Minds And Solid Relationships Are Cultivated." Alfred F. Jones read aloud the name written in elegant script on the envelope lying on the expensive marble island in the middle of the insanely large kitchen. Even though he had been living with his uncle for a month now, he still hadn't adjusted to the extravagant lifestyle of his English relatives. He was just a simple boy from New York, not an aristocrat!

"That is correct," his uncle replied excitedly, "I managed to get you into the most prestigious international school in the world. I'm sure you will have a wonderful time there!"

Alfred sighed as he glanced at his uncle. Charles Kirkland, the current Prime Minister of England, was a kind man. He was middle aged and attractive, though he had very large eyebrows, which, unfortunately, had been passed on to his six sons. He was obviously wealthy, if his mansion was anything to go by, and though 'Uncle Charlie' had been nothing but hospitable and kind to him ever since he arrived, Alfred still felt lost and out of place.

Charles noticed Alfred's reluctance and his gaze softened. Alfred was like his mother in so many ways: his unruly golden blonde hair, his lightly tanned skin, his clear, twinkling blue eyes, his wide friendly smile. However, what pained him the most was Alfred's optimism and flamboyance. Catherine had been the complete opposite, refined and gentle, and so very fragile. _It must be inherited from that unruly American she eloped with_, Charles thought bitterly. He had nver felt so betrayed. He hadn't spoken to her again. Charles snapped himself out of his musings with a sigh. It was no good to think of the past, now. It only riled him up.

"I'll give you some time to look over the packet. If you have any questions, ask Arthur." Charles ruffled Alfred's hair and left the room.

"Thanks, Uncle Charlie!" Alfred called to his retreating uncle. Seating himself on a stool, he adjusted his glasses and began reading the packet.

* * *

"Aren't you excited, Al? We're going to a new school tomorrow! We'll officially be in junior high!" Eleven-year-old Alfred looked up from packing his Captain America backpack to look at his twin brother, Matthew, who sat on their shared bed hugging his stuffed polar bear. Matthew had slightly longer hair than Alfred and different glasses, but otherwise they were identical. However, they differed greatly in character. Alfred was loud, boisterous and fun loving, while Matthew was calm, polite, and mature. Nonetheless, they were as close as brothers could be, and each other's best friend and staunchest supporter.

"Sure, Mattie. I'm pretty excited. I wonder how many friends I'll make. You want to have a contest to see who gets more friends?"

Matthew sighed. Alfred didn't mean any offense by it, but Matthew was always rather jealous of how Alfred was able to hold the attention of everyone around him. In comparison, Matthew seemed to blend into the woodwork. He was even sometimes mistaken for his more popular brother. Matthew knew he could never hate his brother. He meant well, but he really was just clueless.

"You know there's more to school than hanging out, Al. We go there to-"

"I know, I know. We go to school to learn. I've heard that whole speech plenty of times Mattie, but if there's no point in school if we only focus on the learning or we might as well be home schooled."

Matthew laughed. "That's so like you. But you know, you're really a genius at some subjects. If you put a little more effort into your schooling, you could get into any college you wanted for engineering or technology or even international relations."

Alfred waved his hand dismissively. College was too far away to worry about. All he was concerned with was having fun right now. "You're pretty smart yourself, Mattie, so don't bother with me. You can be the brains. I'll be the brawn. After all, I'm the hero!"

Matthew just rolled his eyes. "You get that silly hero complex from dad, you know. But you don't really know what a hero is. If you did, you wouldn't want to be one."

Alfred snorted in response. "I don't want to hear that from my crybaby little brother. Who's the one who always beats up your bullies? Besides, I've read so many more superhero comic books than you!"

The quiet blonde couldn't help smiling at his brother's naiveté. "Sure, you've beaten my bullies, because you're crazily overprotective, and you've definitely read more hero comics than I have, but that doesn't make you a hero. A hero has to have a certain mentality."

Alfred blinked. What was Mattie going on about this time?

Matthew smiled at his clueless brother. "You have to be willing to sacrifice anything to protect those you love. Anything. You have to be willing to give up everything you have for the greater good. Could you really do that?"

Alfred nodded resolutely. "Of course I could, Mattie! I would do anything to protect you."

"What if the thing you had to give up _was_ me? Could you go on? Could you still be a hero?"

* * *

Alfred blinked the tears out of his eyes. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep on the school information until he looked down at the slightly drooled on papers. Reading did that to him, sometimes. "I'll just ask Artie all about it." Alfred declared, making his way up the extravagant winding staircase to his cousin's room.

It wasn't hard to find. Even if the mansion was a maze, all he had to do was follow the shouting that led him to a large oak door. He took a deep breath and opened the door- only to be bowled into by the mischievous twins of the house. Shamus and Liam were having fun tormenting their younger brother, as usual.

"That'll teach you to draw a mustache in indelible ink on my unicorn! The curse will activate at midnight! You're in for a world of pain!" A red and fuming Brit wagged his finger warningly at the retreating twins, who did naught but laugh. Alfred just blinked. He didn't even want to know.

"Heya, Artie!" He called up to his angry cousin, who seemed rather embarrassed to be seen in such a state by Alfred.

"My name is Arthur, and what do you want?" He ruffled his (clearly bleached if his dark eyebrows were anything to go by, Alfred noted) spiky blonde hair and glared defensively with burning Emerald eyes and indignant, thick eyebrows as Alfred rose from the floor. Arthur didn't like to have to look up at his taller, though slightly younger, cousin.

"Just wondering if you could tell me about this Circle Academy I'm supposed to be attending. I kinda fell asleep reading the packet, and thought you would explain it better anyway."

Arthur gaped. "You got into Circle Academy? I don't believe it! Father must have pulled a lot of strings to get an uncouth idiot like you into the best international school. Fine. Come in."

Alfred pouted. Arthur really didn't like him for some reason. His pout dropped when he got a look at Arthur's room. He had never been in it before, as Arthur spent as little time as possible around him. The place was huge! A massive king sized bed was set up against the wall with a huge flat screen TV on the opposite side so he could watch 'telly' from bed. There was a walk in closet, a sofa, bookshelves full of books covering a whole wall and a snack bar across from it. _How frickin' rich are these people?_

Arthur lounged on the sofa and Alfred settled himself on the floor in front of him.

"Well," Arthur cleared his throat, "The first thing you should know is that, even though it is an international school, it uses the American school system. The founder of the academy was greatly inspired by American schooling, it seems. Strangely enough, I don't know of a single American in the school. Probably too stupid to get in." Alfred glowered but held his tongue. "You will be a sophomore in high school, and though we will undoubtedly share classes, I refuse to interact with you while we are at school. Understood?" Arthur waited for Alfred's nod and continued. "Another very important thing you should know is that Circle Academy covers all grades, from preschool through university. You may think this unimportant, but it will affect your school life greatly. The truth is, the founder, Romulus Vargas established the academy almost thirty years ago, so it is still extremely young. However, it has thrived so well because of his connections. He is a very wealthy man and he has many well-to-do friends who put their children in his preschool. Of course, when some of the most influential people from all over the world put their children in one school, it gains a reputation and grows. My brothers and I all grew up there since child-hood, as did the majority of the students, so we all know each other very well. I'm afraid you will quite stick out. Not only will you be the only American, you will also be practically the only new face since kindergarden. Good luck!" He smirked.

"That's fine!" Alfred tried hard to keep his nerves from showing, "I like a little attention. I'm sure I'll fit in just fine."

"Hmm." Arthur didn't seem so convinced as he glared down skeptically at his 'commoner' cousin. Alfred, in his jeans and t-shirt didn't even fit in on the expensive oriental carpet. How did he expect to blend in with a whole school of aristocrats? Arthur huffed out a laugh. Not like it mattered to him! What happened to Alfred was his own problem. "I've told you about the school. Now leave." He pointed to the door.

"Wait, isn't there more?" Alfred gazed in confusion.

"The founder will tell you on your first day, now go away." Arthur glared.

"Fine, fine." Alfred mumbled, slouching out of the room. He had a week. One week before his life at Circle Academy would begin, and he had things he wanted to do before he died.

**I guess I should start off by saying there will most likely be no real pairings in this story, and no yaoi. I may hint at a pairing or two-*ahem* pruhun *ahem* What? I didn't say anything!- but there will be no real romance. (Mainly because I suck at writing it!) This will forcus on Friendship, Angst, Tragedy and lots and lots of fluffy bromance! **

**Also, I don't bash, so if you think I'm hating on Arthur, Ivan, the BTT or anyone else, please don't give up on me! I love them all, so all will turn out well. They can just be jerks sometimes, ya know?**

**I will update every Monday at first, though I may have to cut it down to every other Monday as the story goes on, because I don't have all my chapters written. I swear on my Captain America shield that I will not give up this fic! **

**So what'd ya think? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Any questions, comments or critiques are greatly appreciated. Please send me a little review and consider your good deed of the day done!**

**Thanks!**

**8i8**

**sparklybutterfly42~**

**edit: sorry, for some reason FF deleted my line breaks, so it looked all confusing. **


	2. The Hero's Creed

**Hi again! Thank you to those who commented and followed! I'm off to a slow start, but I'm sure things will pick up.**

**A little warning: Arthur's a little mean in this chapter. I assure you he's not a villain! I really like him, but for the story's sake, he and Alfred don't get along _at first. _Things will get better between them. Also, Alistair and Owain are Scotland and Wales respictively, while Shamus and Liam are N. Ireland and Ireland. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, sadly. But I do own an awesome bomber facket that my great uncle used in the Korean war. A guy offered me 5 grand for it once and I turned him down. True story.**

* * *

Throughout Alfred's 'last week of freedom', his nervousness progressively grew. Since childhood, he had been the type of person who could make himself comfortable in any situation, but life had changed very drastically since-

_No. Don't think about that._ Either way, perhaps it was the move across the ocean or the fact that he would be completely out of his element in such a high-class school, but he could barely contain his feeling of apprehension. How would the old Alfred have handled the situation? _Probably, I would have burst through the doors declaring my heroism and laughing loudly._ He smirked at the memory. _Why can't things be that simple, now?_

It was Sunday evening and he couldn't sleep. All his fears and memories bounced around inside his head, making him feel sick from the overwhelming chaos.

_Calm down, Alfie,_ He urged himself, _Everything will turn out just fine. What would Matthew have done to calm you down?_

Alfred quietly slipped out of bed and padded over to his closet. Taking a deep breath, he reached all the way into the back corner and took out a box. The box of the only remains of his family: two jars of ash and a couple belongings. He drew his eyes away from the jars and brushed past his mother's apron and his father's old superhero comic books to grab the small stuffed polar bear at the bottom of the box, sitting next to his worn blue whale. It had been Matthew's most treasured possession.

They had won the stuffed toys from the claw machine in Hiroshi Yamamoto's Japanese restaurant. Mr. Yamamoto knew very little English when he immigrated to New York, and when he moved into their neighborhood, he was found by the boys, especially Alfred, who took it as their personal duty to show him the ropes of being American, including teaching him English. In return, he cooked them delicious Japanese food and taught them to speak basic Japanese as well.

When Alfred drew the whale out of the machine, he immediately dubbed it 'whale-dude', but Matthew couldn't quite think of the right name.

'Kumajirou,' Mr. Yamamoto had said simply, never being one for words.

Matthew had agreed that the name was perfect, but readily forgot it. Alfred chuckled as he remembered the many names Matthew had called the bear, trying to recall the right one. Pushing the box back into the closet, Alfred carried Kuma and Whale-dude to bed, and, breathing in the sweet nostalgic scent of the carefree past, fell into a peaceful sleep.

He was awakened by a flash of light and a burst of laughter. Blinking groggily, he opened his eyes and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, and, placing them on the bridge of his nose, looked over to the source of the disturbance. Shamus and Liam were grinning while holding a camera, while Arthur smirked nearby. Alfred groaned inwardly.

* * *

"Good Morning, Sunshine," Arthur's smirk grew, "I didn't know you slept with a teddy bear and- is that a whale?" The twins doubled over in laughter, peeking at the camera screen. _Probably future blackmail material. _Alfred grimaced.

"This coming from the guy with the collection of stuffed unicorns in his closet?" Alfred groused. Arthur immediately turned a bright shade of red.

"I-idiot! That's not any of your business, you git! What were you doing in my closet anyway?"

"Wait," Alfred perked up, "You're serious?" There was a beat of stunned silence and then he burst into raucous laughter. "Haha! That's hilarious! You're like a girl, Artie!"

Arthur's glaring eyes promised pain to the American should he continue laughing. That is, until they widened out of fear.

The twins were missing.

"Oh no you don't!" The furious Brit charged from Alfred's room: a man on a mission. A mission, this is, to save his stuffed unicorns.

Alfred sighed and crawled out of bed, determined to make the first day at this new school work.

* * *

Alfred thanked heavens for Uncle Charlie. When the man said, 'anything to make you feel at home,' he really meant it! The American was sat at the huge dining room table eating a large bowl of Reese's Puffs and a donut. He had heard that buying American food in England was very expensive. A simple box of OREO cookies cost the equivalent of almost 10 dollars! He didn't think he could have lived without his OREOs.

His musing was disturbed, however, by a derisive snort from behind him. He turned to see Owain, Alistair, and Arthur enter the room. Owain was three years older than Arthur, While Alistair was four year older. Both had the same Kirkland Eyebrows and choppy hair, though Owain's was strawberry blonde and Alistair's was a deep auburn. Both older boys attended Circle Academy's University of Business, though Owain, who had instantly taken a liking to his younger American cousin, confided in Alfred that he secretly wanted to become a harpist instead. Nonetheless, he knew his duty and understood it was beneath his high education to follow such a silly dream.

"Are you really going to wear that?" Arthur glanced skeptically at Alfred's attire: jeans, converse, his old bomber jacket and a Captain America t-shirt.

"Why not? I don't see you in a uniform." Alfred got out between spoons-full of cereal. Arthur wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"It is true that Circle Academy doesn't issue uniforms, but that is only because it encourages the foreign students to continue wearing their traditional clothing. Those of us who do not have traditional clothing must dress appropriately." Arthur drew attention to his clean sweater vest, dress shirt, slacks, and well-polished shoes.

"These are traditional!" Alfred argued. "Jeans were invented in America during the California gold rush, T-shirts became a staple for American army men during the Spanish-American War, Converse have been made by a company in Massachusetts since the early 1900s, and this bomber jacket happens to be the very jacket my grandfather used during World War II _and_ the Korean War. How much more traditional can you get? Don't tell me your sweater vest was hand knitted by Queen Elizabeth? It looks old enough." He viewed the vest with mock seriousness, tapping his index finger to his chin.

"No it is not, but at least it looks classier than what you're wearing! Ugh. Forget it, you twat." Arthur turned away and grabbed his laptop bag. "Hurry up. The chauffer will take us in five minutes, and I don't want to be late because of you."

Alfred grumbled something along the lines of 'stupid, spoiled rich people', which Arthur blatantly ignored.

"Don't worry, Alfred," Owain smiled softly at the American, "You look fine. As long as you're comfortable, that's what matters, right? I'm sure the founder would agree."

Alfred returned Owain's smile. Ever since Alfred arrived, his older cousin had been very kind to him. He had instantly felt that Owain would make a great big brother. Alistair, on the other hand, was rather intimidating. He was clearly the leader among the others and the only one who could keep them in line aside from their father and mother. Speaking of their mother-

"When's Aunt Meg coming back, Artie?"

"Her name is Margaret and mine is Arthur. Get it right, idiot! Why must you always give us such derogatory names! You haven't even met her yet, and you already are calling her such a ridiculous name. And I believe she will return next week, along with Peter."

"It's not ridiculous or derogatory. It's affectionate! A nickname!" Alfred glared defensively. "Excuse me for trying to fit in around here! I'm only trying to get along with you guys."

"Well, don't try! You don't fit in and never will! You are a lazy, common idiot! You won't fit into our family like that! Your own family leaves you and you think you can just force yourself into ours? Not a chance! You want a nickname? How about fatso? Or loser? Or stupid? Would any one of those make you feel more at home? I must say they suit you quite well. Why don't you just-"

"That's enough, brat." Alistair growled out in a menacing voice. Arthur immediately shut his mouth in fear. He had blown up again. How could he never control his awful temper? Remorsefully, he glanced at Alfred, an apology on the tip of his tongue. But what he saw shocked him.

Alfred was smiling. Not just smiling, but grinning.

"Any one of those would do me just fine, Artie." Arthur noticed that though his face remained smiling, his voice wavered with an overflowing emotion. Arthur felt guilty.

"Alfred, I'm –"

"No. Forget it. It's fine. You guys ride. I'll walk to school. I'll find my way. I'm the hero, after all."

He grabbed his bag and headed toward the front door, his speechless cousins left behind him. As he exited the kitchen, tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He held them back. No one would ever see him cry. That was his creed.

_Mom. Dad. Mattie. Why did you have to leave me?_

* * *

**I'm sorry he was so mean!**

**Also, the thing about OREOs is true. A box of OREOs at Tesco costs 6 pounds, approximately $9.80. Seriously. **

**I hope you enjoyed! I would love a review! Even a simple 'nice' or 'it sucks' would be appreciated. I like to know what people think of how it's going!**

**I am off to Florida on Wednesday, but will be back in time to post again next Monday!**

**Thanks so much!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	3. Conversing With the Dead

**Here's chapter 3! **

**I want to thank my awesome guest reviewer who encouraged me last chapter. It's frankly disappointing that I don't get more reviews, but I won't give up! I'm sorry to tell you, dear guest, that you won't find out what happened to Alfred's family for a while. You'll get bits and pieces of the story, but won't see the full view until the end. Sorry!**

**Anywho, I don't own Hetalia. Sad but true. I don't even own Lovino or Alfred, my favorite characters. Maybe one day...**

* * *

"Do you mind telling me what that was all about, brat?" Alistair's angry voice broke through Arthur's shock. He winced, but turned towards the sound. He deserved his brother's anger. He had done wrong and he knew it.

"I-I don't know. He just annoys me so much, and I don't know why, but I snapped at him. I didn't mean to!" Arthur pleaded with his brother to forgive him, but inside, he knew the one who really needed to forgive him was Alfred.

"What just happened?" Shamus' voice broke through the tension. Arthur hadn't even noticed the twins had entered. "Alfred just left, and he seemed really upset."

"We'll talk about this later," Owain cut in. "Right now, we have to go to school. Perhaps we'll see Alfred along the way and pick him up."

The twins and Owain grabbed their bags and trudged out the door to the waiting limousine, but Alistair and Arthur remained in the kitchen longer.

"This isn't over yet, brat. I'll have a talk with you when we get back." Alistair muttered as he headed out the door.

Arthur shivered at the coldness in his brother's voice. 'Talks' with Alistair were never pretty.

* * *

Alfred sat in front of the elegant headstone in the center of the cemetery. Uncle Charlie had buried Alfred's mother here in the nearby church cemetery when he found out about her death. Apparently, he had been very close to his sister, and wanted her to be buried nearby his home at the High Anglican church they had attended as children and Charles continued to attend with his children and wife. _Poor Dad and Mattie. Mom and I were struggling financially and had to get them cremated. We couldn't even afford to bury their ashes, let alone buy a tombstone. _Alfred had kept the jars of their ashes, never telling his uncle that he wished they could be buried with his mom. Uncle Charlie really didn't seem to like dad. He'd probably refuse. And Alfred had never told him about Mattie. _He'd probably never heard of him from Mom either. _It hurt him to think that his poor, overlooked brother would never be remembered by anyone other than him, even after his untimely death.

Alfred stood up and brushed the dirt off his jeans, rubbing his eyes one last time. Funny, how during her life, his mother had never seen him cry, but now he could openly weep in front of her grave. His father had told him that 'Men never let others see them cry. Heroes don't make people worry.' Whenever he'd needed to cry as a child, he had hidden himself away. If she ever found him, he'd tell her he was playing hide and seek, or he had a cold, and that's why he was sniffling. She had always believed him.

"I miss you mom. I was angry at first, but now I'm just sad. Why would you leave me? I needed you! I tried so hard to keep us together but now you're gone. I just don't know what to do anymore." Alfred felt his eyes well up again and took a deep breath to calm himself. He was done crying and he had to get to school. Without a second glance back, he walked swiftly away from his mother's grave.

* * *

"Ah~! _Alfredo_! You must be _Alfredo_! I'm so happy to see you! _Grazie_ for coming to my school! It is so very strange to have new students, and a student from America is even more exciting! You know, I love America and American schools in general. I never told this to anyone, but the real reason we don't have any Americans here is that many of their schools are superior to ours. That is, of course, why I modeled my school after American schools. Still, why would American parents send their children to my school when theirs are just as good and even cheaper? They wouldn't! Of course, don't tell anyone here that I said that. I don't want to lose students, now~!"

Alfred stared blankly at the strange man who had been talking his ear off since he arrived. Could this be the headmaster, Romulus Vargas? He took a moment to study the man, who, if his accent and name were any indication, was Italian. Though he must have been at least sixty years old, his hair was a thick and curly brown and he was very tall and fit. He had a childish face and cheery brown eyes. But what stuck out most of all about him was the toga. Yes, he was wearing a toga. Apparently, he took the traditional clothing dress code very seriously.

"-And they are just too cute! Especially my little Feli~! he loves pasta and singing and pretty girls just like all Italians should. And his art is _bellisimo_! He really has talent, that boy. Now if only Lovi~ could follow his example."

Was he still talking? Alfred watched in awe. Living in New York, he had met many Italians, and they had all been chatterboxes who gesticulated too often. However, even his old friend Nico Valentini, who owned a pizza shop near Alfred's house, couldn't compare to this man.

"-And I said to the pretty girl, '_Ciao_~' and she practically swooned into my arms-"

"Excuse me, but shouldn't I be getting to class?" Alfred spoke up. He really wasn't looking forward to class, but it couldn't be worse than having his ear talked off by a crazy Italian. Right?

"Ah~ _Mi Dispiace_, _Alfredo_! Of course you must get to class! Here is your schedule! I'm Sure you can find it by yourself, right?"

"Sure!" Alfred said quickly. Anything to get away.

"_Bene_! I must go off to stalk- I mean see my precious little Feli~! He is just too cute~! _Ciao_~" And then he was gone.

"_Addio_." Alfred muttered. "Now to find my room."

He glanced around and spotted two blondes chatting by the lockers. Well, one was chatting. The other just stared at the talking boy with an intimidating face.

"Hey, you guys." The smaller blonde stopped talking and looked toward Alfred in surprise. The taller one continued to stare. "I'm new here. Could you tell me where room 107 is? I have to get to my Literature class."

"Ah. Yes, I would love to help!" The blonde smiled cheerily. The tall one's face didn't change, but he did nod. "My name is Tino. Tino Väinämöinen. I am from Finland. This is Berwald Oxenstierna. He is from Sweden." He gazed curiously at Alfred. "Are you from America? I have never really met an American before. Have you, Berwald?" the intimidating blonde shook his head.

"Yup!" Alfred grinned; proud to be the first American they met. "I'm from New York! Name's Alfred F. Jones. Nice to meet ya!"

Tino smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. "It is wonderful to meet you, Alfred. 107 is down the hall and after one right and one left. Good luck with Mr. William. He takes literature very seriously."

"G'd L'ck." Berwald grunted.

"Thanks guys" Alfred grinned. "Maybe I'll see you later!" With one last wave, he turned on his heel and headed toward class. Following the directions Tino gave him, Alfred finally arrived at the room. Suddenly, his nerves went haywire and he breathed deeply to calm himself down, and after a beat, he knocked on the door. The classroom noise from beyond the wooden door hushed, and Alfred felt his face heating up. A measured tread paced toward the door and it swung inward. He looked up into the face of who he assumed must be Mr. William.

"Ah. You must be the new boy. The headmaster informed me of your arrival. Come in." Alfred nodded and entered the room, his boisterous personality taking over his nervousness.

"Now, I know this is extremely rare," Mr. William addressed the sea of shocked faces, "but we have a new student starting with us today." He turned to Alfred. "Introduce yourself, lad."

Alfred nodded vigorously then looked at all the students. His eyes passed over Arthur, who seemed to be trying to ignore him. There were at least thirty of them in just this one class. How many were there in the whole school?

"I'm Alfred F. Jones," His cheery voice rang out loudly, despite his nerves, "I'm from New York, and I'm the hero! Nice to meet ya!" A stunned silence followed his introduction, as the class took in the American boy in his casual clothes, face beaming.

"Ah, well, Mister Jones, please sit over there next to Mister Vargas, and we will continue this class."

"'Kay!" Alfred smiled as he bounced over to the assigned seat and dropped his backpack. As Mr. William turned back to the lesson on Othello, Alfred turned to the boy sitting next to him. He had curly brown hair with one longer curl sticking out of the right side of his head. He had golden eyes and an angry scowl on his face.

"Hey, are you Lovi~?" Alfred whispered to the boy.

The boy's scowl deepened. "Who the hell called me that?" He spat out.

"The headmaster." Alfred was surprised by the anger in his voice. He really didn't act like Romulus Vargas.

"Damn Bastard." He muttered. "He knows I hate it when he calls me that. Don't ever believe what he tells you. My _Nonno_ is stupid. And don't even think of calling me Lovi~, jerk! My name's Lovino!"

"Sure thing!" Alfred readily agreed. Best to stay on this one's good side. If he had one, that is…

* * *

**There will be words in other languages in this story, but they're all obvious, like 'ciao' or 'bonjour'. When characters speak full sentences in other languages later in the story, they will be written in English in italics. Just know that those are supposed to be in a foreign language. I hate when I read a story and have to scroll to the bottom of the page to get what's going on.**

**Some of my OCs are based off of historical characters, so care to guess who Mr. William, the Literature teacher is based off of? 50 Doitsu points to the winner!**

**Ah, I love Lovino. He's so cute! He may be foul mouthed. Sorry. That's just how he is.**

**Please send me a lovely review! I can't tell you how happy it would make me.**

**Until next time!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	4. An Unexpected Ally

**Howdy Y'all! Thanks so much for the amazing reviews and favorites and follows! I get all emotional when I get a new one! Congrats to multicultureiskey and RikaFurude13 for guessing Mr. Williams' identity. Yes, he is based off of William Shakespeare. I kinda love that dude.**

**Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. I do not own Hetalia, though I do own an awesome set of mini Shakespeare play volumes from the 1800s! **

* * *

Alfred studied the students around him. They were all obviously well-bred if their clothes were anything to go by. The boys wore well-pressed suits or at least dressy slacks and preppy sweaters with blazers, while the girls wore tailored dresses or skirt suits that alone probably cost more than all the clothes he had owned in his life put together. Alfred did see some students in traditional clothing, including a boy in a yukata and another in a hanbok. The students seemed to be surveying Alfred as well, and he grew slightly embarrassed when they kept glancing at his clothes and whispering to themselves. He was interrupted from his surveillance when he heard a throat clearing above him.

He quickly glanced up to see Mr. William. The man was staring down at him and boring into the boy with his eyes. He did not seem pleased.

"Mister Jones. Can you answer the question?" Alfred felt like a deer in the headlights. He hadn't been paying attention! What would he do? This guy seemed pretty angry. He was startled when Lovino tapped on his open workbook at a question on the page. Was the fiery Italian helping _him_? He glanced down and read the question in his own text.

_What do you think is the moral of __Othello__?_

A beat of silence followed as Alfred tried to put his thoughts into words. He had read the story before, and it had greatly saddened him. Othello was so pitiable. The thought of such a good and honest man being corrupted so thoroughly that he would even kill his own wife was horrifying. And the saddest part was that his fault lay in trusting the wrong man, one who should have been his friend! Alfred pondered these thoughts. Really, he had a lot in common with Othello, didn't he?

"I don't blame Othello," he began, "for what he did. He was a very good man who was betrayed by one he trusted.

_Just like I was._

"He was lied to, and because of his low self esteem due to years of prejudice, he believed it without a second thought, thinking that it was what he deserved, losing the one he loved. He wasn't worthy of her.

_I failed them. I failed them all._

"But then his jealousy overwhelmed him, and he became a monster, killing the one he loved, because if he couldn't have her, no one could.

_Only she killed herself. I wanted to protect her, but she left me. _

"He wasn't enough for her, he thought. He gave everything, but was never enough.

_I was never enough. Even she said so._

"And then, when he discovered he'd been lied to, he killed himself out of grief.

_Only it wasn't a lie. It was all true. And I'm still alive. Why am I still alive? Why am I alive when they are dead?_

"The moral of the story? People are fragile. Their minds hang on a delicate balance between sanity and insanity. Break that balance and they can turn into monsters, sometimes never to return. Tread lightly. You never know when you'll step on a landmine."

* * *

_He was betrayed by the one he trusted._

_He was lied to, and because of his low self esteem due to years of prejudice, he believed it without a second thought, thinking that it was what he deserved, losing the one he loved. He wasn't worthy of her._

Lovino slammed his locker open and put his books inside. There was more to Alfred F. Jones than met the eye. What the other students may have seen as a simple summary of a piece of literature, Lovino could see as a life story. He too, had felt alone and betrayed once. He had felt the jealousy that comes with losing someone you care for to another. Thinking you weren't worthy. He had felt it.

He had been betrayed once, and he had never truly recovered. He never let anyone: not _Nonno_ nor Feliciano nor even that idiot Antonio get close to him. If they got close, they could hurt him.

"Loviiiii~"

"Hmph. Speak of the devil."

"Ah! _Lovinito_! Were you thinking of me, _amigo_?" Lovino looked up to see Antonio Fernandez Carriedo literally skipping toward him. The Spanish boy's curly brown hair bounced with the movement and his olive eyes shone.

"Like hell, tomato bastard."

"Now Loviiiii~ Don't say that! Come eat with me and Francis and Gil!"

"No way in hell am I eating with your sick friends. And my name is Lovino, dammit!"

"But Lovi, they aren't sick. Don't worry about getting your food infected! And I brought tomatoes today! Eat with me!"

"Not that kind of sick, idiot! I'm eating with someone else today! Shut up and leave me alone!" He accentuated the order with a slam of his locker as he stomped away from the deflating Spaniard. Antonio sighed and went off to find his friends and report how cruel his little _tomate_ was being today.

* * *

Alfred had avoided the cafeteria like the plague. Just the thought of being the only American and new student surrounded by hundreds of posh and prissy aristocrats made him cringe. Sure, no one had openly mocked him, but he hadn't really made friends yet. Though Tino and Berwald and even Lovino had seemed rather nice.

Alfred settled down on a bench in the garden. Circle Academy had a beautiful garden, and this spot was possibly the most peaceful place in it. An arbor of trees shadowed the bench, while nearby; a few ducks swam in a massive lily pond. The sun shone brightly and there wasn't a rain cloud in the sky: a far cry from the weather he'd experienced here so far. The stillness was broken when a tramp of feet alerted him to another presence fast approaching. To his surprise, the scowling face of Lovino rounded a tree. He stopped short when he saw the American.

"What are you doing in my spot?" He growled, narrowing his golden eyes.

"Oh, sorry, dude. I didn't know it was yours. I'll leave." Alfred quickly turned to walk away.

"N-no. It's fine. If you're so set on staying, you can, _bastardo_." The boy blushed a deep red. "D-don't get the wrong idea! It's not like I want you here!"

Alfred smiled and sat back down. "Thanks." Lovino looked surprised.

"For what, _bastardo_" He glared.

"For helping me out with Mr. William. I _so_ did not want to be written up on my first day." Lovino nodded his acceptence. "Sooo…" Alfred searched for a topic of conversation. "You hiding out here to get away from the noise too? You can eat lunch with me if you want!"

Lovino nodded as he took out his lunch: pasta with tomatoes and garlic. Alfred unwrapped his own burger and started munching on it. "They're all so loud and stupid. Especially that stupid Antonio. He always bugs me!"

"Who's Antonio?" Alfred queried. "I don't think I've met him."

"And you don't want to." Lovino warned. "Wherever he goes, Francis and Gilbert are sure to be nearby, and you're in for hell if you get on _their _blacklist! They consider themselves the heart-throbs of the school, and maybe they are, but all I know is that they're bad business. They're bullies. Once, back in second grade, Gilbert and Francis, who had already formed a bond, were bullying me. Antonio got really angry and beat them up, and ever since, they've been fast friends. He may look innocent, but he's not a part of the 'Bad Touch Trio' for nothing."

"Well, at least he stuck up for you. That makes him a hero, so he must not be that bad!"

Lovino snorted. "Just you wait, jerk. Just you wait."

"Oh right!" Alfred's exclaimation broke the comfortable silence that had settled, which had been disturbed only by the satisfied noises one makes while eating something particularly tasty. "I've been seriously wondering this, but I forgot to ask the headmaster. What does the 'Circle' in 'Circle Academy' stand for?"

"Hm. Well, It's some old eastern philosophy called Karma. Whatever goes around comes around and what not. _Nonno _always liked that philosophy. He said it would encourage the students to do good, because if they didn't, they would pay for it." Lovino replied in a bored tone as he packed away his empty container.

Alred too, crumpled up his wrappings and wiped his face with a napkin to remove any traces of his meal. "True, that's the more modern version of Karma, but I once knew an Indian dude who explained to me the true meaning. Real Karma is cruel fate: predestination. It says that all bad things that happen to you happen as punishment for the evils committed by your past life. I don't believe in that stuff, really, but it still seems so unfair." _Even though it would make absolute sense of my life._

Lovino nodded. It made sense of what had happened to him. It wasn't like he had done anything to deserve being abandoned. Perhaps Karma was real? Maybe he'd been a pickpocket in his past life. The thought made him chuckle. Alfred glanced at him curiously and only then did he notice how relaxed he was.

He never allowed himself to be this close to anyone, so why this stupid American that he'd just met? Why did he feel like he could trust him with all his secret thoughts and not be laughed at? He'd needed time to think about this.

"I'm going in." He stood and brushed off his clothes, turning to go.

"M'kay. Seeya around, Lovino!" Alfred cheerily replied as he watched the boy leave. With a contented sigh, he lay down in the soft grass. Maybe living here wouldn't be too bad.

* * *

**Taadaa! Now you know where the title comes from! Seriously, though. Karma's cruel. **

**A yukata is like a kimono. It's Japanese, while a hanbok is Korean.**

**Also, I love Othello. That play seriously made me cry. Poor Othello! For those who don't know the story, basically Othello is a Moorish general in the Venician army, and his trusted soldier Rodrigo is pissed becuase Othello promoted another younger soldier, Cassio, over him. So he manipulates Othello into believing Cassio is sleeping wth Othello's wife, Desdemona. Othello believes him, because he has very low self esteem and doesn't think she could love him in the first place. He smothers her with a pillow in a fit of rage, and when he finds out the truth, kills himself. It's super depressing. The true meaning of a tragedy is 'A good person allows his fatal flaw to corrupt him and brings about his own demise.'**

**Lovino became much more of a main character than I expected. Though I guess it shouldn't be much of a surprise, because I love him so much. He will definitely be a good friend to Alfred. (I think people like Alfred, Feli, and Antonio are the only ones who can really put up with Lovi's abusive tsundere-ness.)**

**Please review! Meanwhile I will go out and make a snowman. We got at least six inches since early morning an it's great packing snow! Plus, I love it because it got me out of work and babysitting, which is why I can get this chapter out earlier!**

**Thanks for reading! **

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**

**Edit: IndestructibleInk pointed out to me that I used the word 'ejaculation' instead of 'exclaimation'. I seriously didn't know what connotations it has now, so I'm super sorry! It actually can mean the same thing as exclaim, but I guess that's not the common usage anymore! *blush***


	5. A New Foe

**Heyaz!**

**Enjoying the Winter Olypics everyone? I fell madly in love with Yuzuru Hanyu and am currently planning our wedding. He needs to get back to me about the ring first, of course. But why would he say no? **

**Thanks for all the reviews, favorites and follows! **

**I do not own Hetalia, but I do own 'Japanese for Dummies' and 'Russian in a Nutshell'. Just two easy-to-understand manuals closer to my dream of being a polyglot!**

* * *

Alfred yawned and stretched as The warning bell chimed. He had to get back to class. He pulled out his schedule and glanced at it. Literature had already passed, and thanks to Lovino, he'd gotten through okay. Advanced Calculus had followed, and, being gifted in math, he did very well. He also enjoyed Chemistry Lab. Now, after lunch he had just two more classes before he could leave. World History and Mandarin.

Alfred sighed. _I guess I have to go. Playing hooky is probably a felony around here._

* * *

When Alfred entered the World History room, he instantly felt all eyes on him. He greeted the teacher, a Signor Paolo Marcos, and introduced himself as he had at every class that day, and after being assigned a seat, trudged over to his place. He tried to ignore the stares and whispers. Let them look! He was the hero! Of course they would be awed by him! As he sat down in his seat, he noticed three boys directly behind and on either side of him staring at him even more intensely than the rest, and it made him very nervous. Though one, a Hispanic boy, seemed very friendly, the blonde and- was that one an albino?- stared as if surveying a prey and considering what form of death would be most fun for them and give him the most pain. Alfred gulped. Heroes were never afraid! He also noticed that Arthur was in this class. He hadn't seen him since Literature.

Signor Marcos cleared his throat and the students turned their attention to him. Alfred, though, still felt as if eyes were on him. "Last year we ended with the bubonic plague that spread throughout Europe in the 14th century, also known as the Black Death. Today we will review. Can anyone tell me the results of the Black Death?" Arthur raised his hand. "Yes, Mister Kirkland?"

"Well for one, there were fewer peasants so they were in higher demand as workers. When the nobles needed people to harvest their fields, the peasants could charge very high prices and the nobles couldn't refuse. This, many historians believe, led to a better economy throughout Europe and a lessening of social differences." Alfred snorted. _And yet they're all looking down on me because I'm low class._

"Mister Jones, is something humorous to you?" Alfred glanced up quickly. He hadn't noticed he's scoffed aloud. "Mister Kirkland's answer was perfect as usual. Do you have anything you'd like to add?" Arthur glanced smugly at him.

"A-ah. No. Not at all." Alfred hurriedly replied. History was _not _his strongpoint. Frankly, he sucked. All those dates and names and events boggled his mind. He had worked himself to exhaustion to learn American History, because he thought it would be important, and he'd heard various myths and legends from his many foreign acquaintances, but he knew nothing of some blue bonnet plague or whatever.

"Mister Jones." Signor Marcos' eyes bored into him. "Can you tell what was the cause of the bubonic plague and what percentage of Europe's overall population it wiped out?"

"Um, no?" Alfred tentatively replied.

"Hmph. How could you possibly not know? Don't they teach you anything in American schools?"

"Well, I was supposed to learn Medieval History last year, but I missed out on the beginning of the year, so I never learned it." Alfred could feel his face burning. They all thought he was stupid. How could they know that the reason he missed out was because he had to work to support his mother?

"Well then, I guess you have lots of catching up to do." Signor Marcos landed a large volume labeled World History on his desk. "Pages 720 to 980. I want them done by Wednesday."

"Yes, sir." Alfred muttered.

_Screw what he I said before: living here really sucks._

* * *

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief when World History was finally over. He quickly gathered his books and rushed out the classroom to his locker. His last class of the day was Mandarin, and he was really looking forward to it. He had always loved learning languages, and in his neighborhood in the Bronx, there were many foreign language speakers. In fact, almost 50% of the population spoke a language other than English. Being raised surrounded by so many languages, he and his brother had enjoyed learning many of them. There was always a native speaker to practice with! Unfortunately, he'd never gotten the hang of Chinese. This was the perfect opportunity to learn it! Excited, he closed his locker and turned to leave, only to bump into someone.

"Oh, sorry, dude!" Alfred glanced at the person as he rushed by, but then slowed when he saw who it was. It was the blonde who was staring at him all through class, and his friends were with him as well.

"_Bonjour, mon ami." _The blonde flipped his ponytail in a dramatic manner. "Where are you going in such a rush?" Though he smiled in a friendly manner, his blonde eyes were sharp. The boy was clearly an aristocrat, based on how he was dressed, though the ruffles and lace, not to mention the cravat, would have been more fitting of a noble in the 17th century, rather than the 21st. Alfred inwardly rolled his eyes. This dude was taking the dress code a little _too _far.

"Ummm… Mandarin." Alfred stared blankly. Why was he interested?

"Hmph. Chinese. How could you choose Chinese when French was one of the choices." He shook his head in a pitying manner. The American couldn't know what a poor decision he'd made. He was too stupid.

Alfred just shook his head. He already knew French fluently.

"It's totally not awesome to have a conversation that isn't surrounded around the awesome me." An arrogant voice broke in. Alfred turned to see the purple-red eyes of the albino boring into him. He flashed a predatory grin and Alfred had to suppress a shiver. _He looks like he wants to eat me!_

The albino boy was wearing black pinstripe suit pants and a silky red shirt left mostly unbuttoned. _Was that really necessary?_ He was still talking about how awesome he was.

"Ah." A cheery voice interrupted. "We haven't even introduced ourselves." Alfred turned to the last member of the trio, the beaming Spaniard. "I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. My loud friend is Gilbert Beillshmidt and the Blonde is Francis Bonnefoy. Gilbert is the son of the president of Germany, Francis is the son of the prime minister of France, and I am the second son of the king of Spain. What about you, _amigo? Quien es su padre"_

"Um, well. I'm not really high class, actually." Alfred was awed. So this was the 'Bad Touch Trio that Lovino spoke of. Not _everyone _in the school was extremely influential, though they were all filthy rich. These people were frickin' _royalty_! He _so_ did not belong here. "I'm just a kid from the Bronx. Oh, and my dad was…" He fought back a flash of pain. How could he explain his dad's job? "… a delivery man." That would work for now.

Antonio blinked. "_Que_?"

"Um. He delivered stuff to… influential people." Alfred held in his shame. _Influential indeed._

"Then, I'm sorry to seem rude," The silky voice of the Frenchman cut in, "but what are you doing here?"

"I recently…lost my family and had to move here, and, well, my adoptive family is kinda upper-class. You guys know Arthur Kirkland? He's my cousin."

The Frenchman's jaw dropped and then a sly smile spread over his face. "Is he now? Onhonhon~ _C'est marvailleux!_ _Mon Rosbif _has such a _minable _relative! I will surely hang this over his head next time we meet!"

"You guys know Arthur? And I'm not low-class or pathetic, Frenchie! I'm normal! You people are just freakishly prissy."

"Kesesese~" The albino laughed. "You've got nerve saying such things to us, _arschloch_. You're just a nobody!"

"Now, now." Antonio soothed. "Francis did insult him first. By the way, Alfred, how did you know what he was saying?"

"I speak French fluently." Alfred replied. "It's not quite my favorite language, but I know it well. However, I don't speak Chinese. Speaking of which, I need to get to class. Oh," he turned to Antonio, "If you see Lovino could you ask him to meet me again tomorrow, same time, same place? Thanks, bro." He turned around and swiftly walked away, missing the look of shock on the Spaniard's face.

* * *

"So…" The Frenchman began the conversation. "What are we going to do about this _Américain_? We cannot allow such low class people to run about our school. They would defile us.''

''So he's the one who my little Lovi ate lunch with. He refused me, but ate with _him_?'' Antonio's eyes burned. He had been trying to get Lovino to open up to him since they met as children, yet he actually had lunch with this American after _just _meeting ?

The harsh german accent of Gilbert broke in to the conversation. "I may have a solution, and it involves a certain Russian."

Antonio gasped. "You can't possibly mean-"

"Who else?" Gilbert smirked. "Yes, I believe Ivan would be willing to knock our dear American back into line." Francis nodded his approval. Antonio, though doubtful, agreed. Hopefully, Ivan wouldn't beat the new boy _too_ badly…

* * *

**I feel like this is a crappy chappie. I'm so sorry!**

**So yes. Alfred is a Polyglot, that is, he speaks many languages fluently. I thought it was a little stretch for him to know 5 or 6 fluent languages, but then I saw a boy from New York on Youtube who knew over 20 languages fluently, and then I was like, 'errr... maybe not.' So it's all good.**

**Yet even Alfred, our rising star, is bad at something! He sucks at history. Anyone care to guess who Paolo Marcos is? It's so obvious I want to hit myself for thinking it was clever.**

**About the BTT, they're just narcissistic jerks. Antonio, I think, is only a part of them because, even though he acts all sweet and friendly, if you come within five miles of his Lovino, he'll pelt you with tomatoes so hard you won't be able to tell the juice from your blood. Francis and Gil admire that.**

**And on that happy note, Please Review!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	6. The Ambush

**Hey guys! Sorry I didn't update last week. I was visiting awesome colleges! One of them made me feel really patriotic and like I could change the course of my country, but the other one's mascot is Baron Von Steuben, one of my history idols, so I'm having a hard time picking. :(**

**Anyway, this chapter is probably rough, because I didn't want to jump abruptly into Alistair tearing Arthur down, so I feverishly added everything before that just now. I kinda like how it turned out, though.**

**Anywayz, I have not yet obtained the rights to Hetalia, but I did, in fact, have a bikini bod photo shoot in 3 feet of snow. #YOLO!**

* * *

Arthur had a difficult day getting through school, with Alistair's disappointed face and cold tone distracting him throughout his classes. When time came for him to attend to his student council duties, he was in a foul mood and not at all ready to deal with the student body president. But really, was he ever?

As Arthur placed his school bag in front of his desk, he sighed. As usual, that bloody fool of a president had pushed all of his work onto the second in command. And, as usual, that put Arthur in an even worse mood. Why didn't he just give Arthur the position of president? He already did all the work! But no, that wanker would never allow Arthur to be in command above him. Arthur tried to ignore the image of _his_ gloating face as Arthur was elected Vice President, beaten only by a small margin. _He probably snogged everyone until they promised to vote for him anyway. Eceryone knows I'm more qualified. _Arthur comforted himself. A shiver of disgust ran up his spine as a hand that reeked of rose perfume grope at him.

"_Saluuuut!_" the disgusting voice purred. "And how is _mon rosbif _doing on this lovely day? Glaring only makes those caterpillars on your face more obvious, you know!"

Arthur threw off the offending appendage and whirled upon Francis Bonnefoy. The perverted Frenchman only smirked with delight. How he loved to rile up his little underling.

"Sod off, you bloody frog!" Arthur's voice dripped with venom. "I have no patience for you today!"

Francis clicked his tongue in reproof. "_Non, non, rosbif_. Do not take out the anger you have for being rejected once more because of your hideous eyebrows on me. Come, come. Tell _grand frere _all about it."

Arthur was steaming. He wanted to slug Francis so badly. "Just leave me alone." He managed to force through gritted teeth. In vehemence, he threw himself into his chair and furiously began scribbling his signature in approval to various student petitions without a single clue as to their contents.

Francis' very presence riled him up, and as the French boy turning away with an annoying chuckle of 'onhonhon', Arthur allowed himself a calming breath.

He and Francis had been rivals since childhood. Since their parents were both in high standing, they saw fit to acquaint their children to each other, and when both Charles and Louis were appointed prime minister of their respective countries, well, a friendly rivalry began between the two men over whose sons were more fit to lead.

Needless to say, Arthur and Francis took things too far.

They took every opportunity to one-up the other and prove once and for all who was superior. Of course, they could never truly come to agreement over who was in the lead, and their rivalry grew until they could no longer look at each other without feeling the righteous rage of wounded pride.

Arthur tried to block out the memories of his previous failures. Whenever Francis had trumped him in a contest, be it cooking, painting, or even flower crown making, he felt the shame burn within him as Alistair scoffed at him.

"_Can't you even beat him at the pansy things a wimp like you should be good at?" _The cold words in the memory made Arthur cringe. _"Obviously you can be beaten in sports and weaponry, but can't you even defeat him at cross-stitch?" He turned up his nose in distain at the crumpled embroidery of The Ugly Duckling that Arthur had toiled over. Francis' impeccable Sleeping Beauty had been judged better in craftsmanship by Arthur's brothers, and the young boy had tried to swallow the tears of betrayal. _

The Ugly Duckling cross-stitch, still in its wooden hoop, which Arthur had slaved over and rejoiced in its completion, was no more than a pile of ash by the next day.

* * *

"Why would you say those things to him?" Alistair growled, and the disgust in his voice made Arthur cringe. Why did it always have to end this way? Arthur was instantly cornered the moment he returned home and Alistair began to berate him. "Can't you imagine that this move would be hard for the lad? Why couldn't you try to understand him more?" The auburn-haired boy's fiery temper shone through as he pounded the table with his fists.

Owain and Liam and Shamus looked on silently. Alistair lashed out at Arthur often, whenever Arthur had done something to call forth his anger, and, though Owain often checked up on Arthur afterwards with a cuppa and some gentle admonishments, they never moved to stop Alistair as he tore into their younger brother with his words.

Arthur's fists clenched.

Alistair had been ranting at him this whole time on behalf of that _outsider._ And he couldn't take it any more. His anger and resentment and _sorrow_ bubbled from within him in the form of salty tears that he struggled to keep at bay.

"Well, brat? What do you have to say for yourself? What possible reason would you have to tear him down?" Alistair's disgust tore through Arthur's core, and his head snapped up. An image of flames licking at fine, perfect stitches flashed through his mind as he felt pity towards the ugly and awkward little cygnet, mocked by his brothers for being different, who would never grow into a beautiful swan and show them his worth.

"What about you?" Green eyes blazed with unshed tears as the blonde Brit glared at his older brother. "What excuse do you have?" Arthur's voice was raw with pain and choked sobs as he growled out his answer. Alistair's eyes widened. Arthur had never talked back to him before. "Why do you always tear into me with your words? Why do you look at me like I'm some repulsive thing not worthy of your attention? Why won't you ever say my name? I'm Arthur! Your brother! My name isn't brat! Why do you even side with some stranger over your own brother?" Arthur didn't hold in his tears anymore, and they streamed down his face freely as his hoarse accusations grew in power until he was screaming at his brother. His brother whom he _loved. Why couldn't he love me back? _"Can't you see why I can't stand him? That idiot? It's because you care more for him than you do for your own brother!" Arthur's defiance ended in heaving sobs as he sunk to the floor. His brothers all stared in astonishment.

When he finally calmed down, Arthur wiped away any errant tears and looked up into his brother's face. Alistair still gaped at him, as if he had never seen anything more shocking in his life than his younger brother sobbing on the floor.

"Alistair." The single name broke the silence that settled over the room. "Alistair. I wish I could storm away from here, screaming how much I _hate_ you." Alistair flinched at the word. "But I can't. Do you know why? It's because I've always loved you. Always admired you. Why can't you love me back?" Arthur shakily rose to his feet and turned away without another word.

As he walked up the stairs toward his bedroom, he heard a faint sound. He turned toward the noise and followed it, as if in a trance, and to his surprise, it brought him outside his cousin's door. The sound was music. Soft music strummed gently from an acoustic guitar, as a clear tenor voice sang gently along with it. Arthur crept closer to listen. Did Alfred have the radio on? He'd never heard this song before.

"_I can't stand to fly. _

_I'm not that naïve. _

_I'm just out to find a better part of me."_

Arthur crept closer and gasped as he peeked through the slightly ajar door. Alfred sat on his bed strumming a guitar and singing with his eyes closed. The look of pain on his face and the tremor in his voice caused Arthur's throat to hitch.

"_I'm more than a bird,_

_I'm more than a plane,_

_I'm more than some pretty face beside a train. _

_And it's not easy to be me."_

As Arthur tiptoed away from his cousin's room and toward his own, he couldn't banish that song from his mind, and as he lay his head upon his pillow, his thoughts turned to his cousin. What was Alfred hiding? Did he miss his home? Did Alfred feel as lonely as Arthur did? Could their similar feelings draw them together in understanding? He found no rest that night, mind plagued with bitter memories and a wavering tenor voice.

* * *

**Dang. I made Arthur really emo didn't I? I think it's rather in character for him though...**

**The song is Superman by Five for Fighting, and it never ceases to make me cry.**

**Also, I have an extremely painful sore throat and a headache. (It even hurts to swallow and breathe! D:) So if you could kindly leave a review, I would be ever so happy and it would improve my condition greatly I'm sure. Please give me your thoughts!**

**Love you all who reviewed and faved and followed. It makes me so happy!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	7. A Surprise Invitation

**Hello! **

**Well, I'm highly disappointed that we didn't get the 6-12 inch snowstorm we were supposed to get. That really sucks. I was hoping for a day off. Furthermore, I'm in a state of turmoil due to what's going on in North Korea and Russia. I really don't want a WW3! **

**I do not own Hetalia. Though I may fantasize that I own Alfred, I do not. *sigh* **

**I want to thank kittyhawk09 and Phantom Ice for the amazing reviews last chapter. It's thanks to you guys that this chapter is so long! You really inspired me!**

* * *

Alfred was excited for school. He was looking forward to seeing Lovino again. Who knew he'd make friends so quickly? He rode the limo to school with his cousins, and was a little shocked by the tense atmosphere. Were they still wierded out about him running away yesterday? Needless to say, he was grateful when the limo rolled to a stop in front of the school and he climbed out, trying to ignore the stares of the snobby rich people around him who watched the commoner exit the car, followed by five well-dressed boys, whom they instantly recognized as the Kirklands.

_Great. _Alfred grimaced. _More attention._

As Alfred tried to find his way to his first class of the day, Advanced Technology, he ignored the stares of the passing students. He had refused to change his style after yesterday, and was once more wearing baggy jeans, a t-shirt and his beloved bomber jacket. Giving in to their criticism and wearing fancy clothes would be _so _unheroic. Everything was practically the same as yesterday, as he introduced himself to his teacher, Mr. Zuse, and his class. He ignored the stares as he surveyed the classroom. There were much fewer students in this class than there were in the ones he'd had yesterday. The class was much more free-spirited as well, which he appreciated. He always worked better when he could be creative. As Mr. Zuse set them on advanced coding, Alfred allowed himself to be lost in the world of technology.

When he was younger, he'd never had much technology. They had a TV and a computer, but his parents were never able to afford anything more than that. However, when the nearby library hosted a free Technology for Beginners course, he instantly felt a connection. Matthew hailed him as a genius in terms of coding and troubleshooting, and when his parents found out about his gift, they were both excited and proud. They threw a party in his house: just his family and him, and he couldn't remember a time when he felt prouder.

Alfred was snapped from his reverie when he noticed a small Asian teen standing next to his computer watching his hands flying across the keyboard as he created intricate codes. The typing stopped.

"Uuuh… Hey." He eloquently greeted the boy. The boy's almond shaped eyes blinked at him emotionlessly.

"Hello." He bowed to Alfred. "I am Kiku Honda. Pardon my rudeness, but would you mind telling me who you are? I have never seen you before." He spoke precise English with a light accent. Japanese, Alfred noted. Not like he couldn't guess by Kiku's name.

"Hey, Kiku. Nice to meetcha! I'm Alfred F. Jones, hero extraordinaire!" Alfred grinned enthusiastically. Kiku looked a little taken aback by his behavior, but smiled nonetheless.

"Hello, Alfred-san. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." He bowed once more.

"The pleasure is mine." Alfred responded politely. Then changed his tone to informal once more. "But, seriously, you don't have to call me by any honorifics. Just Alfred is fine. Do you mind if I call you Kiku?"

The Japanese boy blinked. "If you say so, Alfred-kun. And yes, just Kiku is fine." Kiku settled himself into the chair next to Alfred. "If you do not mind my asking, where did you learn to code so well?"

"There was a class at a library near my house on technology. I learned a little there, and the rest from manuals and on my own. It's pretty cool!" Kiku nodded in affirmation.

"I, too, enjoy such things." He replied coolly, but there was an excited gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Alfred and Kiku spent the rest of the class talking and sharing coding and technology information. Kiku explained that his father was practically the head of advancing technology in Japan, and Alfred readily agreed that the Japanese were very advanced in that area. They barely noticed when the subject turned to more personal matters, and were excited to learn they had even more in common than their love of computers.

"Everyone always thinks I'm so geeky because of my love of comics, but who cares! They're just so cool!" Alfred enthused. It wasn't every day you found a fellow comic and video game lover!

"I agree." Kiku responded calmly, though the light blush of his cheeks and the slight upturn of his lips showed that he was secretly giddy with joy. "Otaku are not very highly regarded in Japan. Have you ever read manga, Alfred-kun?"

"Ummm… Those are Japanese comics, right? I read some of Mr. Yamamoto's - he's an old friend from New York- I read his historical manga. Didn't really catch on." Alfred replied.

"Please consider trying it once more," Kiku suggested. "Action manga is much more interesting. I have some I could lend you." He tried to not get his hopes up. He offered his manga to many, but nobody ever took him up on the offer.

"Definitely! I'll take you up on that, if you don't mind!" Alfred's excited response brought a smile to his face. He could already tell they would be great friends.

"_Arigatou, _Alfred-kun. Also, if you would not mind, would you please meet my friends? I am certain you would all get along well."

Alfred beamed. Who said rich people had to be snotty?

* * *

After Social Studies, Alfred met Kiku outside the cafeteria. The small Asian had two other boys with him, one a tall blonde and the other a small and bubbly brunette. Even from a distance, he could see the strong bond they shared, as the tall blonde firmly reprimanded the brunette, who brushed off his words with a smile. Kiku stood by smiling and adding some gentle words of his own. These three had most likely known each other since childhood, which made it all the more special that Kiku would so willingly accept him and invited him to meet his friends. Alfred beamed at the three boys.

Kiku bowed politely to Alfred and turned to introduce him to his friends. "This is Alfred Jones," he gestured to the tall American. "He just transferred here from New York, and we met in Advanced Technology class. He is a sophomore." A light of excitement entered Kiku's eyes. "And, I am going to lend him my manga." He then turned to Alfred. "These are my friends. We are all freshmen. This is Ludwig Beillshmidt." He gestured to the tall and broad blonde who wore a stern and no-nonsense face. Alfred studied him. Beillshmidt, huh? Could he be related to Gilbert? His clothing, though more conservative than Gilbert's flashy ensemble, was nonetheless classy. He wore a navy blue suit and matching shirt of a lighter color. With his hair slicked back and silver glasses perched on his straight nose and cold blue eyes, he looked every bit the serious academic student. The brunette, on the other hand, couldn't even wait to be introduced, and immediately pounced on Alfred and hugged him.

"Alfred~ How are you? I hope you are enjoying yourself at this school and making friends! I know we could definitely be friends, even though we are all freshmen and you are a sophomore! That doesn't matter, we can still have fun and play with each other! Do you like Pasta? Veee~ I love it!"

Alfred instantly knew who this was. His resemblence to Romulus and Lovino Vargas was clear, with his wavy brown hair and the random curl off to the side of his head and his thick Italian accent aside, his character was exactly like that of Romulus. However, what had been slightly creepy on the older man was cute and friendly on Feliciano.

"You're Feliciano Vargas, right?" Alfred's voice came a little muffled from under a pile of enthusiastic Italian. Feliciano quit his speech on the history of different kinds of pasta and blinked. Only then did Alfred realize that he'd kept his brown eyes closed the whole time. Ok…that was a little weird…

"You know my name?" Feliciano beamed, overjoyed, his large smile forcing his eyes to slits once more.

"Yeah, I met your grandpa and brother- ack!" Alfred jolted. "I was supposed to meet Lovino in the garden! Nice to meet ya guys, but I gotta run!" Alfred quickly nodded to the three boys and took off in the direction of the gardens. Feli stared. Lovino was actually spending time with someone?

"Yay! _Fratello _has a friend!" He enthused, grabbing onto Lugwig and Kiku and spinning them around. "This is great! Vee~ We have to celebrate with pasta!"

* * *

Lovino waited in the garden. It wasn't because he wanted to meet Alfred. He waited in the same spot he had met Alfred yesterday. It's not like he was hoping the boy would come back to eat here and bump into him! He had packed extra pasta and tomatoes, after seeing the disgusting fatty burger the American had called 'delicious' yesterday. He wasn't intending on sharing, he was just extra hungry, dammit!

Lovino sighed. He was so bored. He most certainly did _not _hope Alfred would come. Nope. No hoping from this little Italian here!

And he most certainly did _not_ smile when the tall blonde came into view, puffing from his jog.

Alfred brightened. "Hey Lovino! Good to see ya! I take it Antonio delivered my message! Tell him thanks for me, 'kay?"

Lovino stopped smiling. (Not that he was smiling in the first place, of course!) "No, Antonio didn't give me any message. You met him? Were those jerks he called friends there too?"

"Yeah, I asked him to pass on to you that I would meet you here. He didn't tell you? Hmm… Must have forgotten. Oh well, you're here!" Alfred preferred to not worry over such silly things, especially when it turned out alright anyway. "I did meet him and his friends. They were kinda rude, but they didn't seem too bad."

"Just you wait. I'm warning you! If you get on their bad side, you're in trouble! They have a lot of influence throughout the school, and they can make your life hell!"

"Meh, it's fine. Whatcha got there?" He observed the large container in Lovino's lap. The Italian scowled.

"It's my lunch! Am I not allowed to have lunch, dammit? Is it against the rules or something? You gonna call the cops or something? _Chigii!_"

"Whoa! Hey, calm down there, tiger!" Alfred waved his hands frantically. "It's not like I'm gonna eat it!"

The Italian shoved the container into his hands. "See if I care! If you're going to rob me of my food then at least tell me how it tastes, dammit!"

Alfred blinked, confused. "Ummm… So you don't want it?" Alfred opened the container and smiled in appreciation at the pasta within. It smelled awesome!

"W-well if you're going to beg, I guess I could spare some!" The blushing Italian glared.

Alfred smiled. Lovino was so easy to read. "Thanks, man! It smells great!" He twirled some spaghetti on a fork and placed it in his mouth. "And it tastes even better! You're a great cook!"

Lovino smiled at the compliment, though Alfred knew he would deny it. "At least it's better than your damn burgers!"

Alfred mock-glared. "Burgers are awesome. Don't diss."

Lovino snatched back his pasta and dished some out for himself and for Alfred. Soon the only sound was the contented sounds of muching, as the two boys sat in a comfortable silence.

Alfred, of course, broke it. "Oh, by the way, I met your brother! Kiku, my new friend introduced me to him and their German friend. Ludwig, is it? Is he related to Gilbert?"

"Yeah, he's his brother. There are two macho potato bastards."

"You don't like Ludwig, Lovino?" Alfred inquired. "He seemed cool to me!"

"Well, he's not as bad as his brother," Lovino allowed, "but he's still a potato sucking _bastardo_. He always hangs around my stupid little brother, and corrupts him!"

"Haha, Are you jealous?" Lovino glared as Alfred hit the nail on the head.

"Not at all!" Lovino glared, though his blush made him look much less menacing than he intended. "I just can't stand that kraut-breath!"

Alfred just laughed and nodded, though, by the slight smirk on his face, Lovino could tell that the blonde didn't really believe him.

"Oh, shut it, bastard." Lovino growled defensively. "The bell will ring soon, so lets get to class.

"Okay!" Alfred smiled cheerily, willing enough to let Lovino change the subject. He had music next with Mr. Brahm, and he was looking forward to it. Music had always been something he loved, and he and Matthew had a talent for it and had learned multiple instruments. When they had been younger, they had joked about starting a band, along with Juan Rodriguez, a friend of theirs who had taught them many guitar techniques. The Mexican had been fantastic on the guitar. _I wonder what happened to him_. Alfred wondered as he waved to Lovino and headed to his next class.

All students in Circle Academy were expected to take a class in The Arts. Alfred instantly chose Music. He wasn't very good at acting, and drawing… well, frankly, he sucked. And no way was anyone gonna get him in a pair of tights dancing up on stage!

As Alfred made his way to his locker to get his guitar and then to Johann Brahm's music class, he avoided the students wandering the halls and heading to their respective classes. Aside from the few connections he'd made so far, Alfred hadn't really conversed with many of the students. Their supercilious stares were new to him. He had always been accepted as an equal in the Bronx. Everyone was middle to low class. There was so much diversity, that you stopped really caring about ethnicity or social background, and, even though people from the same areas of the world liked to live in the same area in the Bronx, so as to keep their culture alive within themselves, they never really put so much stress on race as he had seen in the short amount of time that he was here. Could it have been because there, even though everyone accepted that they were all from different countries and cultures, they still considered themselves fully American and had that in common?

Alfred shrugged these thoughts away as he reached the classroom from which the distinctive sound of tuning emanated. If that was true, this school could do with a little Americanization. Alfred grinned at the thought of the horrified faces of his classmates if they heard such blasphemy. Alfred shifted his guitar case further onto his shoulder and opened the door.

* * *

Johann Brahm was a serious man. Serious about music, and even more passionate about it. He loved to be a music teacher, as it opened for his students the door to another world, full of life and harmony, where everything was as it should be and each and every note, no matter how small, had a part in the masterpiece that was music. By showing his students this ideal world, he hoped it would play over to their lives in general. When he first saw Alfred F. Jones, his latest student, enter the room, his well-trained eye instantly saw someone who loved music. The boy paused in the doorway and breathed in deeply, eyes closed, as if tasting the different melodies resounding about the room as the members tuned their instruments. When he opened his eyes, they were peaceful and shone of happiness. But the strangest thing… his smile was so sad. Perhaps music was bittersweet to him. Johann smiled as he welcomed the boy into his room. This boy was definitely an interesting one, and a music lover was always accepted with open arms here.

* * *

When the mellow notes of the piano hit Alfred's ears, it was as if he was transported back in time, to when he was full of innocence and joy, Matthew laughing beside him and a young French-accented girl's voice scolding them to pay attention, because _Maman _would only teach this once! Alfred closed his eyes and breathed, as he took in all the sounds of the symphony around him clamoring for dominance, now the violins had it, next the piano, then the brassy sound of a trumpet broke through loud and clear. It was beautiful. It was nostalgic. He missed music.

Alfred opened his eyes to see his teacher welcoming him in with a smile. Johann Brahm was a tall, middle aged man with defined features. He had a kind, open face that instantly made Alfred feel at ease. He quickly accepted the proffered hand, introducing himself and taking his seat in one of the many chairs lined up. He kept the rush of emotions at bay as he surveyed the students around him. Music made everyone equal. Music showed your soul. It didn't matter if you were a renowned violinist on a Stradivarius or a lonely bar pianist lost and crushed by the weight of the world. A musician could always connect with a fellow musician, and Alfred knew when he looked around him that he was equal.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**Can anyone guess who Mr. Zuse and Johann Brahm are?**

**Love Y'all!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	8. Battle Hymn

**Hello people!**

**Here's my next chapter! First I'll say that I don't want to make it seem that Alfred's good at everything, because he's not. However, it's not strange for people to have multiple musical talents. (I know a kid who can play probably 10 instruments prodigiously.) I chose piano and guitar as two of these instruments because they're popular and easy to learn. I chose harmonica and sax because they're emotionally stunning and seem like something America himself would learn because of his cowboy and jazzman days, so I carried it over to Alfred.**

**Also, you may have noticed that the chapter names are very dark. I don't know why I decided to take the plot of the chapter and make it as dark as possible for Alfred. Maybe so it would seem like he feels like he's in a war? IDK.**

**I do not own Hetalia. However, I hope to soon own a beautiful 1800s Harmonica I saw in an Antique store.**

* * *

Mr. Brahm tapped his baton on his music stand, and instantly, the chaos ceased. Alfred was very impressed.

"Students," he addressed the class, "Alfred F. Jones will be joining our class from today onward. Alfred," he continued turning to the boy next to him, "We call this music class, but it's really more of a student organization. We are basically the school's symphony. It's much larger than this, of course," he assured as Alfred glanced around and estimated about 30 students, "but we have to divide all the students into different classes, or it would be too much. This school is very student oriented, and encourages older students to tutor the younger ones, so if you need any help, I'm sure we can find someone for you. Now that that's all over with, please take a seat next to Mr. Lukasiewicz." He gestured to a blonde…errr…boy? "Feliks, please help get him settled in."

"Like, sure thing Mr. B! I'll totes help the newbie out!" Alfred looked a little dazed as he went to sit with the Polish violinist who apparently wasn't ashamed to wear a long, colorful skirt and bows in his shoulder-length blonde hair. And what was with how he talked? He sounded like a teenage girl! The boy flashed a beaming smile and a peace sign, showcasing his pink nail polish. "Like, hey kid! Can I call you Alfred? I'm totes digging your look. I call it 'sexy grungewear'. I mean, look at you. You're so tall! Though I'd like to see you in a suit. I totes want to take you shopping and give you a makeover. Can I do that? Oooh! And can Lizzie come? She's my friend, and she's fabulous. I'm sure you'd love her and she could give you great fashion advice. Though I really do like that casual look on you, it's missing something and she could help out. Do you use product in your hair or is it just amazing? I totes need your secret. My hair gets sooo dry, and it's awful! Hey do you want to-"

Mr. Brahm took pity on the gaping Alfred and cleared his throat, effectively cutting of Feliks' stream of words. Feliks could be a little…overwhelming when you first met him, but he was a good kid and very friendly. "Feliks, please give Alfred fashion advice on your own time. Right now, we are going to play music."

"Sure thing, Mr. B!" Feliks grinned. Alfred looked a little relieved and still extremely confused.

Mr. Brahm turned to Alfred. "Now to get an idea of what part you will play in our symphony, can you tell us what instruments you play? I'm guessing that you play guitar if the case is anything to go by."

Alfred nodded. "I guess guitar is what I'm best at. I play acoustic, and can do a lot of Spanish guitar stuff. I also play piano, though I'm sure you have better people for that. I play sax, but I don't actually have one, and I know some bongo stuff, but I wouldn't say I can actually _play _them.

Ummm… I also play harmonica. That's it."

Mr. Brahm blinked. "Well, that is enlightening. We have a few guitar players, though most of them don't do Spanish. Mr. Carriedo is the king of Spanish guitar here." Alfred nodded. He'd expected as much. Still, he'd like to see a duel between Antonio Carriedo and Juan Rodriguez. The world would probably explode from the awesomeness. "Still, we can definitely keep you in mind for that. Mr. Eidelstein," he gestured to a well dressed brunette, "is our main pianist. We haven't had any saxophone players since our last one graduated, but we do have the sax here if you want to show us some of your skill." Alfred nodded, and accepted the proffered instrument.

"I haven't played sax in a while, so I might be a little rusty," He explained as he examined the instument. Just what you'd expect of such a prestigious school: they cleaned all the instruments frequently, even if nobody was using them.

He lifted the sax to his lips and began to play. And it all came back.

He had met Louis playing at a street corner and stopped to watch. He was enthralled by the beautiful sound of the saxophone, and began drawing nearer and nearer, and before he knew it, was standing right in front of him. When Louis finished his song he smiled at the young boy in front of him and asked if he had any requests. "What's your favorite song?" came the reply, and Louis instantly lifted his sax to his lips and soulfully began the beautiful piece of music. Before he knew it, Alfred was joining in and singing with his clear childish voice to the song that everybody knew.

_I hear babies cry and I watch them grow._

_They'll learn much more than we'll ever know,_

_And I think to myself:_

'_What a wonderful world.'_

People of all types and walks of life stopped their rushing and watched the duo release the enthralling music into the world: the young boy's crystal notes complimenting the deep and mellow sound of the saxophone. When the last note rung out, there was a beat of silence before a loud applause erupted around them, and the two artists were jolted back into the world of the living. Louis had offered to teach Alfred the saxophone, and the ecstatic boy readily accepted. How could he not? Louis was a brilliant teacher, and he encouraged and praised Alfred in pursuing his interest in music. He had always told Alfred how talented he was. Alfred wondered what Louis was doing now. Probably playing on a street corner, just like he had so many years before.

Alfred didn't notice that his song had ended until Mr. Brahm cleared his throat. His eyes were slightly misty as he smiled at Alfred. "You're hired." He declared jokingly, and Alfred smiled. "We have many drummers already, but I don't think I've ever seen a harmonica in our symphony. What an addition! We could create some very interesting arrangements with that. Would you mind letting us hear some?"

"Ah, sure." Alfred was a little surprised at the request. He didn't expect to have his harmonica playing taken seriously. It was something he played when he felt the need to express himself and let his emotions run free, but he'd never actually performed for another person. What should he play? Shrugging to himself, He pulled his harmonica out of his pocket and began to compose a song. He rarely played written songs on his harmonica, but played whatever came to his mind and matched his mood. Composing songs was easy for him when he was emotional. He allowed himself to get lost in his music, remembering all the times he'd used his small blues harp to overcome the overwhelming sadness that washed over him in tsunami waves. It had been his constant companion through all the tough times. As the old cowboy who he'd bought the instrument from had said, eyes knowing, 'Keep your harmonica close, and it'll safely guide you through everything that happens in life.' Alfred silently thanked the man he'd never really known for that advice. Alfred ended the mournful melody and glanced at Mr. Brahm.

The class was totally still, as all eyes watched Alfred with slight awe. Never before had they heard something so soulful and painful, and there had been many musical prodigies in the school so far. It wasn't even that his playing had been so amazing that he was touched. It was the undercurrent of surging emotion behind every mournful note that made the piece truly beautiful. Mr. Brahm nodded to Alfred.

"I think I can use this." He told the young American. "It would make a great addition to our symphony. What do you think?" He asked turning to the class.

"Totes not a good idea, Mr. B!" The distinctive voice of Feliks piped up. "My makeup is totes running! I can't look fabulous when I'm a sobbing mess!" Alfred chuckled. Feliks grinned at him. The brunette sitting at the piano adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

"I think he would make a fine addition to our symphony." He declared in a Germanic accented voice. Most of the students nodded in agreement.

"Then it's decided!" Mr. Brahm shook Alfred's hand. "Welcome to our symphony." Alfred grinned as he took a seat. Looks like he found a place where he belonged. Feliks flashed him a thumbs up and he laughed.

* * *

Johann Brahm stared blankly out the window. No matter what he did, his thoughts kept returning to his young American student. Alfred F. Jones was remarkable. He played his saxophone and harmonica with such soul and beauty that it brought the music teacher and many of the students to tears. The boy was so involved in his music that it seemed like he shut the world out. The look of pain and heartbreak that appeared on his face when he played the terribly sad song on his harmonica was startling. How could such a young man play music so wrought with heartbreak, as could be played by a man who had seen more of life than he ever wanted?

Yes, Alfred F. Jones was remarkable.

* * *

Feliks chatted happily to Alfred as they made their way to their lockers after music class. Alfred listened and laughed along with Feliks' stories. The boy was strange, but his energy and enthusiasm brought out Alfred's own, and before he realized it, they'd made a connection.

"Toris is, like, totes fabulous! He's been my best friend since forever, and we also hang out with two other friends of his. But they're all creeped on by Ivan, poor guys."

"Who's Ivan?" The American queried.

"He's totes creepy! He beats people up and forces them to become his underlings. He has no real friends, so he makes the students obey everything he says and gets super obsessive over them! He almost put me through the wall when he saw me talking to Toris once!"

"Sounds like you need a hero." Alfred grinned and flashed his perfect smile. "Duty calls!"

Feliks whimpered. He'd just met Alfred. He didn't want to see him buried yet!

* * *

**I love** **Feliks! He's such a cutie, and I always thought he and Alfred would make good friends. ****Funny thing is, I know a ton of polish people. (We live very near to The National Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa, and all the priests are Polish, as are most of the parishoners and workers, and they always have people on pilgramage from Poland.) And yet I have only met three Polish people who haven't been grumpy and stony faced. An older woman who spoke very little English and her mother who spoke none are possibly the sweetest people I have ever known. I think the only words she knew were "God bless you" and she said them constantly. The third Polish lady is crazy flamboyant and owns an awesome fashion boutique.**

**Can you guess who Louis is?**

**I based the old cowboy idea off of my best friend's great uncle who is an authentic cowboy . He's amazing at the harmonica and he has probably twenty that he carries around with him in a case. I sang "The House of the Rising Sun" and he did the harmonica accompaniment for karaoke and it was awesome. Now I really want to play harmonica!**

**I can't really play any instruments, sadly. I took violin for years, but I wasn't very good. However, one of the colleges I'm looking at offers unlimited lessons for practically any instrument for only $80 a semester! So epic!**

**Please, Please, Please review! It would make me inponderably happy!**


	9. A Volley

**Happy St. Patrick's Day to all you out there with Irish in you! (And, lets be honest, who _doesn't _have Irish in them. I literally do not know a _single _person who doesn't have at least a little bit.) Anywho, I'm more Irish than anything else (except American), so Patty's day is a big deal for us. It's practically my Mommom's favorite day of the year, and so we had her and my Poppop over for an Irish dinner and we talked about classic radio mystery shows and watched Veggie Tales. It was pretty great. **

**Sooo... This is the snowiest winter we've ever had. I personally know Polish immigrants who have said that this is colder than what they experienced in Poland. _Colder. Than. Poland._**

**I have not acquired the rights to Hetalia. However, I did have a three year old tell me to "Get a romance already!" 0_O That's just sad.**

* * *

Raivis Galante trembled as he walked through the halls of the school, avoiding his classmates. The young Latvian had been called by Ivan, and when one was called by Ivan, he had to go. Raivis placed his books in his locker and turned to find Ivan standing behind him. The tiny boy shivered as he looked up at the huge and imposing Russian.

Ivan smiled a childish and innocent smile, tilting his head so that his platinum hair framed his face. "You were coming to see me, _da_?" He 'patted' the smaller boy's head, pressing the teen down through his spine. "Why is it that you are so tiny, like little bean?"

"Uhm, that would be because you are always pushing on my spine, Ivan." No matter how many times the tall boy questioned him on his height, he always answered the same. Yet Ivan never stopped.

"Ah, are you thinking this is my fault? I am just showing affection to dear friend, _da_?" If possible, his tone became more innocent and sickly sweet.

"Ah, yes. It is your fault. If you were not so big, maybe I would not be so small." Raivis truthfully replied. Ivan's violet eyes flashed, but before he could do anything, a cry of "Raiviiiiiiissssss!" was heard, and Eduard Von Bock rushed toward them.

"Ah, Ivan, pay him no mind." The Estonian appeased the taller boy, standing in between the Russian and his prey. "He does not mean it. You know Raivis! And we have to get to class anyway, so please let him go this time."

Ivan surveyed the two boys. Eduard always seemed to show up at the wrong time. Whenever Ivan was going discipline Raivis for his rudeness, Eduard stopped him. Well, since they were such good friends, he would let them of this once. "Very well." He told the boy. Eduard's relieved smile dropped as Ivan continued. "But Raivis will have to come see me after school. We have things to be discussing, _da_?" Raivis quickly nodded, and Ivan turned away with one last smile. "_Do svidaniya.'_

Eduard turned to his smaller friend. "Why must you always make him angry? Now he wants to see you after school!"

"I only said the truth!" Raivis defended with tears in his eyes. The thought of meeting Ivan after school scared him.

"Well, We will just have to tell Toris. Perhaps he can persuade Ivan to not meet you. He seems to have a way with him. But for right now, we must get to class." Raivis nodded to his friend and they made their way to P.E.

* * *

It had been a two days since Alfred promised Feliks that he would be a hero and save the boy's friends from the intimidating Russian who had the whole school under his control. Easier said than done. First, of course, he needed to find the boys, and he hadn't even seen Feliks since music class. As he made his way to P.E., he wondered if he would be able to uphold his promise. A hero never breaks his promise! That's what his dad had told him. But then again, why would he take that man's advice after what happened. Alfred scoffed. _You've got a lot to answer for, dad._

As he entered the enormous gym, Alfred gaped. He had always been a very active person: it was rare to ever see him sitting when he could be running, and lifting heavy equipment in Grandpa Fred's mechanic's shop had given him a sturdy and strong build and plenty of hard muscles. He practically drooled at the sight of all the lifting equipment. There were also many tracks and courts for various sports advertised on the signs directing students to other floors or the outdoor fields.

Today, they would be playing indoor volleyball, and though Alfred wasn't particularly good at the game, any form of sports excited him. He wasn't a prodigy, sure, but with his height and build, not to mention his speed and stamina, he did very well in contact sports like football. _Not that they'd have football here._ He groused. _Maybe I could try rugby! That's kinda similar, and even more intense!_ Cheered by the thought, he continued on to the volleyball court.

Alfred was overjoyed when he entered the volleyball room to see Feliks in a corner chatting with a boy with chin length brown hair. He caught Feliks' attention and the boy cheered and waved him over.

"Toris! Look! It's Alfred! I told you about him. Doesn't he look totes great? And he's just wearing ugly sweatpants and a t-shirt!" Alfred had changed from his jeans into a pair of sweatpants to allow more activity. Most students wore tracksuits to gym class, though they weren't as flashy as Feliks' pink sparkly one. "He's so fabulous, I'm jealous! Even poor little Feliks, as adorable as I am, couldn't look so great in such ugly clothes. Wouldn't he be fab in one of the festival dresses from my home place?" The brunette gave Alfred's horrified face a reassuring smile.

"Don't mind him." He comforted the boy. "He has always been like this, ever since we were kids. His mother and my father became friends at this school years ago and now have a fashion design business together, so I have known him since we were very young. I am Toris Laurinaitis, by the way. I am from Lithuania. It is a pleasure to meet you, Alfred. Feliks has been talking about you for some time. So you intend to save us from Ivan, do you? The last person who tried to interfere ended up in a hospital for 6 months. I would hate to see it happen again."

"Yeah, but that guy wasn't as tall or cool looking as Alfie here! And he couldn't rock ratty jeans like our little American can! Seriously, Alfred! You gotta let me show you to Liz! She loves dressing up pretty boys!"

Alfred frowned lightly. "I'm not pretty. I'm manly! I can't be a hero if I'm a pretty boy! Was Captain America a pretty boy? Was Thor a pretty boy? Was Iron Man a pretty boy? Was Spiderma- err.. well, maybe he was, but I'm not!"

"I call it as I see it, hon." Feliks digressed, snapping a bubble with his gum. Alfred didn't have a chance to retort before Miss Torres, the volleyball coach divided them into teams and set them playing volleyball. Alfred soon lost himself in playing. He loved sports, and the feeling of competing always got him excited. The opposing team was equally on footing with his. Alfred grinned at Feliks as the little Polish boy made another great serve. He had a mean serve! Alfred jumped and slammed the ball across the net and to the floor. The ball hit the floor with a resounding _thwack _and the opposing team instantly hit it back over the net. The game was very fast paced, and Alfred played as well as he could, and felt no loss when the other team reached the required 25 points on point ahead of his own team.

Beaming at Toris, who had been a tough opponent during the game, Alfred and the rest of his team shook hands with their classmates. "That was totally fun!" He cheered.

"You're not bad at Volleyball, Alfie? Did you play back at home?" Feliks questioned him.

"Nah, never really got into it. I played beach volleyball for fun though. It's much harder to run on the sand than on the court! I've always been better at football, American football that is, and baseball. My bro-" Alfred cut himself off. A hollow feeling struck his heart as the memories of times playing sports with his brother assaulted him. He had been trying so hard not to think of Mattie since he came here so that he wouldn't mention him to anyone, and he'd mostly succeeded until now. "My brother," He continued in a quieter voice, "and I always played ice hockey together. He couldn't hurt a fly off the rink, but when he was in his gear and holding his hockey stick, he was a demon. He probably beat me 70% of the time, nasty little bugger!" Matthew had been a fantastic hockey player. He could have been a pro, but whenever he saw the damage he had done to his opponents on the rink, he felt awful and locked himself in his room until Alfred calmed him down. He was just too nice. Alfred smiled sadly at the memory. If only Mattie could be with him right now.

Toris looked like he wanted to say something, but abstained and settled for smiling instead.

"So, you wanna meet Raivis and Eduard? Raivis is pretty tiny and totes adorbs, and Eduard is a little preppy, but cool and smart! I'll bet you'd like them!"

Alfred chuckled at Feliks' question. As if his opinions of the two boys would matter on their fashion choices!

They found the boys in the acrobatic section of the gym performing on the rings. Alfred watching in awe as the taller boy held the rings with his feet and swung the smaller boy, clinging to his ankles, to the next set of rings. They performed intricate feats in the air and Alfred watched with eyes wide the whole time.

"Are they amazing, or what?" Toris smiled to see Alfred's awed face. "They have been partnered up since they were very young, and have won quite a few awards for their acrobatics, both in pairs and singles. They want to represent their countries in the next Olympics, but we all tell them they could do better."

"It's pretty admirable of them to want to represent their own countries anyway. That's how the Olympics should be done." Alfred replied. It never made sense to him why one wouldn't want to win for his own country. What an honor!

When their session was over, Toris called them over, and when the introductions had been completed, Eduard told them of what had happened earlier and asked Toris to intercede for them and convince Ivan to let Raivis off the hook.

"You know he doesn't listen very well to us, Toris, but he sometimes listens to you. Maybe you could put in a good word for us?" Eduard glanced at the Latvian, who at the mention of his aggressor's name, began trembling anew.

"Ivan is complicated, Eduard. He is really not so bad, if you know how to work around him." Toris smiled gently.

"I don't want to know how to work around him, Toris. I want to know how to get him away!"

"Which is why he will always return." Toris replied seriously.

A tense silence reigned among the group, only broken when Alfred coughed. "Sooo.. I'd better go, then. Seeya 'round."

"Bye bye, Alfie! We should all, like, totes hang out together some time!" Feliks beamed. He turned to his friends. "Alfie could protect us. Plus, we could always do with more fabulous!" Eduard blinked at Feliks' strange way of inviting Alfred to be their friend, but shrugged it off and agreed amiably. The American had a bit of a reputation running around the school for being an obnoxious idiot and dressing in a disrespectful and slovenly manner, but he was pleased to note that Alfred seemed a respectable and enjoyable person to spend time with. He had also heard, in much smaller circles, of the beautiful music that the blonde had played in music class that had almost brought Mr. Brahm to tears, and now he wondered how much of that could be true. With a wave, the five boys parted ways and walked to their respective lockers to pack up for the day.

* * *

"Isn't this interesting." A silky voice purred. "It seems as though we will not have to push him to get on Ivan's bad side, _mes amis_. He is going there naturally."

"Makes work easier for us, _ja_?" Red eyes flashed. "It's about time someone tipped off our dear Ivan that someone is tying to steal his friends."

* * *

**So, in a desperate attempt to save myself from throwing up (I have emetaphobia), I swore to God that I would stop watching anime and reading FanFiction and manga for a whole week if He took away my sickness... soo... I'm kinda stuck. Though I guess I'll have time to do stuff I always ditch for anime... I will be strong! ****I can do this! I WILL do this! Because. I. AM...uhh.. idk. That kinda burned out.**

**So Alfie's gonna play rugby. Because it's boss. My bro plays rugby, and I only went to one game and fell in love. No protection. No fouls for stepping on someone's toes. Just pure, hard guts and playing until your teeth are knocked out. It's beautiful. Seriously, in that one game, there was a concussion, knocked out teeth, a broken rib or two, a busted arm ect. Even my dad, who was watching from the sidelines, was injured when a kid came bowling out of bounds, head aiming for the tailpipe of a car. My dad jumped in the way and broke his kneecap. Pretty heroic. Though he wasn't pleased about having to wear a full on leg brace for months. **

**Also, guys, would you like me to write this length of chapter and release every Monday or a double length of chapter and release every other Monday? Please tell me.**

**Please leave a review! Thank you to thosewho reviewed last week! Reviews really inspire me to write more!**

**8i8**

**~spa****rklybutterfly42**

**P.S. I saw a sign for North American made furniture, and it had a flag thet was half Canada, half America. My first thought was, "They're AmeCan shippers? EEEW! Incest!" Lol. Hetalia, you broke me. **


	10. The Demon Within

**WOW! I can't believe it's aleady the 10th chapter! And the plot is barely going! Wow, this is gonna be a long story. I got six reviews for last chapter. SIX! Thank you guys so much! I especially want to thank Phantom Ice for the lovely and long reviews! They really inspire me! This reviewer has also inspired me to write more than I had planned for Ivan and Alfred's mini cold war, so thank her if you like that.**

**This chapter is longer than usual. Don't ask why. Just enjoy.**

**Probably no-one can relate, but today I got an update on the manga Kuroko no Basuke, which I adore. And in this chapter, there was a popularity poll. And my beloved Kuroko got SECOND! THE MAIN CHARACTER GOT SECOND! AND TO AKASHI, THE EVIL JERK-FACE! I am not pleased.**

**Anyway, I don't own Hetalia. I kinda own Carlos, but not really. He's Cuba.**

* * *

When Alfred arrived at the Kirkland manor after school on Friday, he found it in a flurry of activity, with maids and cleaning ladies running hither and thither, dusting, mopping, washing windows and arranging flowers. In the center of it all, Charles Kirkland was discussing plans and details with the head butler. He noticed Alfred standing in the entrance way and beckoned him over.

"What's going on, Uncle Charlie?" The boy asked.

"Your Aunt Margaret is returning sooner than expected, so we're in a bit of a rush to have all preparations completed. She should be here tonight at 9:00, so as you can see, we have much to do." His uncle replied. The man looked rather frazzled." I have already sent the boys to their rooms, so they would stay out of the way until preparations are complete and so that they could prepare and get dressed. You may want to do the same. This is the first time my wife will be meeting you, after all."

Alfred agreed that this was probably a good idea, and retired to his room to shower and get some homework done. Since this was the first week back, there really wasn't that much, but it would be something to keep him busy. When that had all been completed, he pulled out his guitar and began strumming to stimulate his thoughts. He had a lot to think about.

The first week of Circle academy had been a little rough, that's for sure, but he had made some friends: Lovino, Kiku, Feliks and the others seemed really nice, and he was sure they could get along, but Lovino's warning of the Bad Touch Trio rang in his head, and he wondered how much he should heed his warning. He didn't like to judge people before getting to know them first, even if he received a strong opinion from someone he trusted. However, there was something about them that just made him nervous. And now there was Ivan to worry about. He had promised Feliks, Toris, Raivis and Eduard that he would help them, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't even a little nervous. Toris had pulled him aside and explained Ivan to him in full detail.

Toris had informed him that Ivan was extremely possessive of anyone he decided was his friend. He had gone so far as to break bones of those who tried to separate the Russian from his 'little friends', and he was practically in control of the whole school. Everyone feared him, except for the Bad Touch Trio, who were on an equal level with him, where control over the student body was concerned. Though, of course, they didn't stoop to beating up the students. They had much more devious ways of showing their power.

Toris seemed to be the only thing Ivan had that was close to an actual friend. Ivan treated him better than the others, and even listened to what he had to say sometimes. When Alfred asked why, Toris had looked at him with a sad smile.

"I pity him." He'd said. "Ivan is like a child trapped in a young man's body. He has never truly had a friend, and he grew so lonely that he decided to force others to be his friends. He is so sad and lost. I can not leave him." Alfred had just stared at him, not really comprehending what Toris was trying to say.

"Alfred. Sometimes bullies bully others because they are trying to fill in a hole in their hearts. You say that you will be the hero, but a hero must be unbiased. You have offered to save us from Ivan, but will you save Ivan from himself?"

* * *

"Mattie," Alfred growled in a low voice, "tell me who did this to you."

Matthew flinched at his brother's dangerous tone. It was hard to get his brother angry, but Alfred was extremely protective of his family. Seeing his brother in such pain with a black eye, bruised jaw and cracked ribs among other minor injuries set Alfred's blood boiling, and Matthew pitied the person on whom his wrath would fall. And no way was he going to tell his older twin that the reason Carlos beat him up was because of his grudge against Alfred! Alfred would flip his lid.

"Please, Al, don't freak out! You do crazy stuff when you're angry! He didn't mean it. It was just a misunderstanding!" Matthew pleaded in vain against his brother. Alfred was out for blood and he would get it, one way or another.

* * *

Carlos Muchado was one of the biggest and strongest kids in the seventh grade. He picked on the younger kids and older kids alike, and rarely had any opposition. Alfred, however, with his stupid, meddling hero complex, made it his personal mission to stop the large Cuban's villainous actions. Alfred was strong and determined and had a multitude of supporters, so Carlos hated him. But what could he do? He would probably be beaten by Alfred, and he didn't like that idea. So he struck upon inspiration. To get back at Alfred, all he had to do was hurt his brother.

Carlos had been friends with Matthew a while ago, but when Matthew had sided with Alfred and shyly warned him that bullying was wrong, Carlos felt betrayed. He was another one of _them_. Those jerks who pretended to be his friends, but always left him in the end. He was cut of the same cloth as Carlos' own father, who had abandoned his wife and five children in Cuba and ran off with another woman. Nobody ever stayed, and now Carlos was the man of the family, without any example of what a man should be. All he could feel was rage and betrayal at Matthew's words.

Carlos began to attack Matthew at random, never leaving more that a bruise or two in inconspicuous places. Alfred never caught on, and Matthew didn't want his brother to fight for him. He could deal with this by himself. It was only after a rough night of holding his weeping mother in his arms that Carlos snapped. Matthew, noticing his once-friend was in a bad mood, invited him to join his family for dinner. Carlos could only see red as he was reminded of the family he could have had but which had abandoned him. He fell upon Matthew, beating him and screaming until his throat was raw, pouring all his hatred of his father into his fists as Matthew tried desperately to dodge. When he was finished, Carlos ran away, leaving a bloodied and unconscious Matthew lying behind the school.

* * *

When Alfred saw that his brother had not shown up for class, he began to look for him, and panicked when he saw his twin lying in such a state behind the school. He immediately took him home, and after patching him up, interrogated him on who did such a thing. Alfred was livid and though he knew Matthew wouldn't tell him who had hurt him, he could guess.

"It was Carlos, wasn't it? Wasn't it?" He demanded when Matthew looked up with startled, pleading eyes. "I'm gonna kill him."

Matthew grabbed his arm. "Please, Al. Calm down! Carlos has been through a lot. We can help him!"

"And where did trying to help him get you? Huh?" Alfred growled. "I will never put up with someone hurting my brother. You stay here, Mattie. I'll deal with this."

Matthew's protests were cut off by the slam of a door.

* * *

Alfred was broken from his musings when he heard a knock on his door. Putting aside his guitar, he walked across his plush carpet and answered his door. It was Owain.

"Hello, Alfred. May I come in?" the older boy asked his cousin. "I heard you playing guitar and I wondered if there was something on your mind." He laughed when Alfred gave him a surprised look. "I do the same thing when I think, except with my harp."

Alfred welcomed his cousin into his room, and gestured to his bed, where he and Owain settled themselves. There was a moment of silence while Alfred tried to put his feelings into words and Owain waited patiently.

"Have you ever done something that you regret, but you're not sure if you should?" Alfred began at last. Owain paused for a moment and then nodded, his eyes slightly guilty. "Well, back at my home, there was a kid named Carlos who bullied everyone. One day, he hurt someone important to me really badly, and I guess I just snapped. I beat him up and I kept screaming really nasty things to him. I always felt a little guilty for how I treated him, but I was defending his victims, so it was the right thing to do, right?"

* * *

Alfred stormed back into the school, fury evident on his face. The sea of students parted at the sight of the friendly and always enthusiastic blonde so livid. He marched straight to Carlos, who was fiddling with his locker and without any preamble, slammed a fist in his face.

Carlos bit back curses as he tried to stem the blood flowing from his nose. He didn't have any time to retaliate before Alfred lifted him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against his locker with all his force. "Jones! What do you think you're doing?" He demanded, angry eyes clouded with pain. This kid was strong!

"No, Carlos, the question is what do _you_ think you're doing? You _dare_ attack my brother and think you'll get away with it? Not on my watch!" He slammed his fist in the larger boy's gut, fully aware of the gaping students. Alfred had snapped. "He wanted to help you, and this is how you repay him? He's possibly the only person in the world who doesn't hate you and this is how you treat him?" Alfred seethed.

"Heh. That's where you're wrong," Carlos sneered. "I have followers of my own. Don't think you're the only popular one."

"And where are they now, huh, Carlos? Do you see anyone stepping up to help you?" Carlos scanned the crowd for any of the boys who followed him around. He almost flinched when he saw heads turn away from his gaze.

"Well look at that." Alfred drawled. "Even your lackeys won't help you. You wanna know why? It's because they hate you. They just stick with you so you won't beat them like you did my brother." Alfred released Carlos after slamming him against his locker once more. "Everyone will leave you, Carlos. Nobody cares if you live or die." And as Carlos watched the American turn and leave and the students move on with their lives, muttering about what they had just seen and sending fearful glances at the retreating back and the heavily breathing boy. He wondered if that last sentence had really been uttered by Alfred F. Jones or if it was his own mind supplying him with the answer he'd been looking for all along.

* * *

Owain glanced at his cousin who gazed at him with confusion marring his face. If only Arthur would turn to him for advice like Alfred found it so easy to do. Not that he'd ever done anything to deserve it.

"I suppose," He began, "that you actually know the answer to that question yourself. It seems to me that you did your best to protect the ones you love, but at the expense of another's happiness. Is this a 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few' situation? Who knows. I've heard that you want to be the hero, and a hero would never hurt another like that." He saw Alfred's face fall, and felt a stab of guilt. "But don't worry. Perhaps what you said to him was necessary, and he was able to change because of it. Just be more careful in the future and learn from this."

Alfred sighed. "That's the second part of my problem. I have another bully on my hands now, and I don't want to do the same to him. I now know how much words can really hurt. I don't want to fail to save anyone anymore. Maybe Ivan is lost, and I could help him, but I'm scared that I'll mess up like I did with Carlos!"

"Ivan? As in Ivan Braginsky?" Owain glanced at him with worry. Ivan even had a reputation that made its way to the university sector of the school. He was dangerous. "I hope you can figure out what to do, Alfred, because he'd a dangerous one. Just remember this: You never know what's going on inside someone. Even the cruelest person has something precious to him, and bullies always bully for a reason."

Alfred nodded thoughtfully, then beamed at his older cousin. "Thanks a ton, Owain. You're the best!" Owain smiled and ruffled the hair of the younger boy, who he'd come to think of as a brother.

"Any time, Alfred. And maybe I can play music with you some time."

"Sure!" Alfred cheered. "That'd be fun!"

Outside the door, standing in the shadow and gazing with longing at the picture of fraternal love, Arthur let two tears run down his cheeks as he turned away.

* * *

**Dang.** **Artie's so angsty. **

**M'kay. So, true story about being so protective you'd beat someone up. When I was probably 7 years old, I was at a party, and my older brother (whom I worshipped) got into a fight with another kid. The kid hit him in the face really badly and he started gushing blood from his nose an mouth. He ran in to get cleaned up and I watched as he spat blood into the bathroom sink. I went back out and saw the boy gloating over his victory, and without preamble, I picked up a massive hockey stick and flattened him. I, an undersized seven year old, was powered by the rage of protectiveness and decked an older boy. Suffice to say, he went home and was never heard from again.**

**Ad then there was the time when I was 5, and my best friend, who was also my neighbor, called my brother a b*tch. I refused to even look at her for five days, until she finally gave in and apologized. In fact the only grudge I can hold for more than 30 seconds is someone else's grudge.**

**And...Now I scared everyone off. Sorry. Just leave my family alone, and you'll be fine!**

**Now I must hibernate. It's gonna snow. Again. What a surprise.**

**Please leave a review!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


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